


The Way Things Weren't

by RaccoonMama



Series: A Future That Wasn't [1]
Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaccoonMama/pseuds/RaccoonMama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're her responsibility now...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been an unexpected tragedy. His illness had struck suddenly, leaving Walter Manor empty save for the servants and the automatons he had built for her. His will, written when she had to assume he knew he was growing ill, specifically indicated her as the soul beneficiary.

This entire place was hers now.

Delilah Moreau stood in silence for several long moments in front of the sprawling building, a few maids in front giving her distasteful looks. She tastefully ignored these glances save for enough time to memorize the ones who eyed her as though she had been engaged in some untoward activities in order to get Peter to name her in the will. The nerve! Professionally, she admired Peter, and yes, perhaps she had been starting to fall in love with him... but never once had the thought crossed her mind to share a bed with him before the proper agreements and arrangements had passed.

Drawing back her shoulders, she waved one of the butlers over, smiling politely as he offered to have the help carry in her things, and to tend to anything else she may need until she could see “the boys.”

The boys, she knew, were three clockwork automatons, all three of whom she now had the blueprints for. They stood at one of the upper windows and watched her as she entered; she could see their glowing eyes from here. There was also, she was aware, a rather massive clockwork giraffe.

This was a conundrum. Under normal circumstances, inheriting the previous work of an inventor was simple. The experiments generally didn't talk back, after all. In this case, however, she was dealing with three very intelligent creatures, all of them artificial intelligences with the ability to reason, learn, and – most importantly – feel pain and understand emotion. These were essentially children, and it was her responsibility to take care of them now.

“Edgar, if you would please be so kind as to have my things taken to the second master bedroom,” she murmured, turning to smile up at the tall man. “The rest of my belongings will be moved from my flat within the fortnight. I wish to speak with the automatons.” Turning her head back toward the manor, she pointed toward the window where now only a pair of brightly glowing blue eyes observed her. “How do I get to that room?”

He nodded a bit. “I will have one of the maids take you to them. It would appear only the little one is up there now.” He clapped his hands once, glancing at a sharp eyed maid. Delilah noted her as one of the ones that had given her a rather unpleasant look before. “Iris, take Miss Moreau to study seventeen.”

“Of course, Edgar,” the woman murmured in response, pointedly not looking at Delilah now. “This way, Miss Moreau.”

No further words were spoken between the two women as they headed into the winding hallways and elegant oak staircases. The whole place echoed with each step they took, until they finally reached a room where two automatons sat, one tall and silver with a spinal column having the appearance of a smokestack, the other small and made of brass who trembled with something between anticipation and unease as he watched her. There was no sign of the third, the first Peter had built, and had spoken so highly of.

Later, she gathered.

The automaton, made of steel and iron, nodded his head slightly toward her, brightly glowing green optics fixed on her face. He was an intimidating sight, gangly and tall, but when the shifting plates of his carefully crafted face arranged themselves into something resembling a smile, she relaxed a bit. “Hello, both of you. My name is Delilah Moreau. I'm certain you have been told why I'm here...?”

“Of course, Miss Moreau.” The tall automaton nodded his head again. “Thank you for coming. My name is The Spine... and this is our little brother.”

She looked toward the little automatonas though prompting for a name, but he just perked up in excitement at being included into the conversation. Something about him seemed so odd, as though the very fabric of reality rippled and shifted ever so slightly around him. “Hello!” he chirped, voice sweet and melodic. “It's very nice to finally meet you!”

Smiling, Delilah curtsied politely. “And you as well... ah... I'm sorry, do you have a name I could call you?”

The Spine chuckled. “Little brother doesn't really have a name. When we need to call him something short to get his attention, we just call him Three. Other than that, he'll answer to just about anything.”

Delilah let a little laugh bubble out at that, reaching out to pat the little automaton on the shoulder. “We shall have to get you a better name eventually, darling, but for now Three works. Isn't there a third automaton, though? Rabbit? Peter told me about him once.”

The two automatons exchanged a look with one another before the Spine cleared his voice of a bit of static. “He's... not taking Father's departure well.”

He said the word “departure” carefully, noting his veiled glance toward Three. It would appear the smallest Walter creation did not, perhaps, have any real concept of death. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then nodded. “Does he have a particular place I may find him?”

“You could try Pappy's favorite study!” Three chirped. “I can take you there!”

She smiled at him, warmed both by his enthusiasm and his demeanor. So much like a child... a pity Peter hadn't had the time to name him. She would think of something eventually, but for now, she reached to take his spindly hand. “Please lead the way, then, darling.”

Three was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

As for Rabbit, the eldest of Peter Walter's creations sat silently in the middle of the floor of the deceased man's favorite study, holding his goggles quietly. There were blueprints in here of what Peter had hoped to modify the robots to look like, but he had died well before ever getting the chance to implement them.

Then the real kicker had hit: the man they loved and called Father had left them in a will to someone else. Of course, it made sense in the end. If he hadn't, who knew what would have happened to them? And true, they had been left to the woman they had been built for, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Automatons, however, had no real rights... they weren't even technically people, as far as laws were concerned.

He didn't care if they had been built to sing for her. Rabbit had no intention of ever singing again.

The copper clockwork man curled up a bit, tucking in against himself, and his shoulders visibly tensed when the door opened. “Rabbit! I've brought Miss Delilah to meet you!”

Of course it was Three that brought her here. Who else would it have been? “...yeah. Nice.”

“So you're Rabbit.” She had such a very sweet voice, light and melodic. He turned his head slightly, and gave her a cursory glance over. Well... she was every bit as pretty as Pappy had always insisted. That, however, did not change the fact that she was now their “owner.” She probably wouldn't understand them... or even want to get to know them. “It's very nice to finally meet you. Peter spoke so often of you. Of you and both of your brothers, in fact.”

Rabbit shrugged faintly, turning away again. “Nice to meet you too, I guess.” He turned the goggles in his hands. “I suppose you're our new owner.”

His tone startled Delilah a bit and she straightened her back, looking to Three, who appeared distressed by his older brother's words and intonation. “Well... I suppose legally, according to the will, I am your new owner. However I don't think it would be fair to say I own any of you. You're very intelligent creatures. I may not be Peter, but I would at least like to be your friend.”

The automaton didn't reply this time, just curling up a little bit. Three gave a sigh, looking up at Delilah. “He's been like this since Pappy died. It's all right. He'll warm up soon enough.”

As she allowed him to lead her out of the room, Delilah sighed, her fingers curling around the cool brass of his. “I do hope so. He seems so sad... and such a lovely voice, too.”

“Maybe once Rabbit is feeling better, we can all sing for you! That's what Pappy wanted, after all. We were built to sing and play music for you.”

Smiling faintly, the lady scientist sighed. “That would be lovely, darling. But let's give him some time.”

As Three nodded enthusiastically, deciding it was officially his place to give her a full tour of the manor, Delilah gave the tiniest of sighs. Having the automatons adjust to her may have been turning out to be much more difficult than she suspected.

* * *

Much later that night, Delilah sat in silence at a workbench in Peter's old laboratory. The blueprints for the three robots lay in front of her, and though the designs would be easy to work through, she wondered how receptive any of them would be to modifications.

It wasn't as though she intended to do it right away, after all. Their current bodies had been built by their “father,” and for now, she knew they would be very attached to those bodies. To be fair, she would have felt it was sullying Peter's vision to change them with him barely a month in the grave. She furrowed her brow, pushing back from the table to rub her temples with her fingertips. “James.” Turning, she looked toward where one of the butlers stood near the door. “Please go draw a bath in the second master bathroom. I need to think on this.”

He nodded and turned to leave as she sighed and stood, smoothing a few wrinkles out of her dress. Three and the Spine seemed all right with her, but she wasn't certain if Rabbit would ever warm up for her.

Perhaps things would look better in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality sets in...

A week passed.

Change, she recognized, was never easy, especially not when you had lost any sense of familiarity in your life. Though she had come from money herself, she had lived in a relatively small flat, using a larger rented space for her experiments and work. Now she found herself with all the space in the world, but it came with three clockwork sons who needed a lot of attention.

Or at least she felt they did. The Spine was fiercely independent, preferring to do things on his own, though he would always offer a hand with work in the laboratories if she asked. Getting him to call her anything other than “Miss Moreau,” however, was trickier than she had initially suspected.

The little brother was much more agreeable in his own right, tagging along everywhere she went. He was a bubbly little thing, filled with so much energy and joy. It was impossible to feel anything but cheerful around him, despite how much sorrow had stricken this family in recent days. He seemed to want desperately for some kind of approval, and she always took the little oddities that occurred around him in stride.

It was Rabbit who worried her the most. The eldest of the three automatons Peter built would hardly give her the time of day, only entertaining her presence for longer than a few minutes if she had sat to supper in the main dining hall, which generally meant his brothers had urged him to join them. Even there he sat in petulant silence, keeping his replies monosyllabic when he was addressed. It broke Delilah's heart to see such an intelligent little fellow so distraught, and so intent on miring himself in his own sorrow.

In the evenings, she usually entertained herself by staying in the laboratories, trying to focus on her own experiments, leaving Iris or Edgar to care for the “children” for a little while. It was difficult to pry her attention from what Peter had left, however, and little bits of his memory lay scattered about the room.

There was no doubt in her mind that had things been different, she would have accepted his proposal without question. He was an excitable man, but as kind as he was brilliant. He loved the automatons as dearly as though they were his sons, speaking often and highly of them. It was such a pity his rivalry with Thaddeus had driven such a vast wedge between them. Before she had become part of the equation, they had been as close as brothers.

And really, it wasn't as though she hadn't loved Thaddeus dearly as well. It was just a different sort of love... more the kind one shared with family than a lover. The part of her she had pushed aside, which had longed fiercely to live at the side of a man whose affection for his creations had been matched only by his love for her, was just as strong as the part that had wished to create alongside the other, laughing and enjoying the wonders of science and discovery as friends and confidantes.

Well... there was no use in focusing on what might have been. Thaddeus had let rivalry grow to hate, and Peter's illness had claimed his life long before anything could have been done to any effect from her standpoint. She was simply left with a mysteriously amorphous house full of servants and automatons, and Thaddeus... well, she really didn't know where he had gotten off to these days, so busy had she been dealing with claiming what Peter had willed to her.

Lately, only quiet afternoon constitutionals in one of the vast greenhouses settled her tumultuous emotions enough to get some peace. From the doorway of one, she could see Rabbit down by the little duck pond, his wiry frame stooped as he fed the ducks, so used to his presence that they no longer feared his inhuman appearance or the shine off his gleaming copper parts. Twirling her parasol in her hands, Delilah gave a faint sigh and pursed her lips.

It was far too sorrowful a picture for her liking, but getting him to speak more than a few words to her was the difficult part.

Well... they were sentient, after all, and with sentience came the responsibility of controlling deeper emotions they may not truly know how to express. She would work with him slowly, and give him all the time he needed. Losing a father, she knew all too well, was such a terrible thing.

* * *

The grand piano in the sitting room was one of the Spine's favorite things. Their father had rarely touched it himself, having no real musical talent, but he often encouraged all three of his sons to play as often as they liked, sitting with his pipe well into the evenings as one of them played a cheery melody and the others sang along. Today he sat quietly before the keys, steel fingers resting lightly on the ivory surfaces, looking at the nicks and scrapes left by many metal digits pressing them down day after day.

He started to play a slow song, one that was just drifting through his head, ignoring the world around him, and he did not open his mouth to let a sound from his rich, deeply tuned voice box... not until he noticed someone sitting beside him, playing keys further down to blend in with the melody he was creating. “Hello, little brother.”

“Hello, the Spine.” The little brass robot tipped his head to one side, never stopping a moment in his playing. “May I ask you a question?”

The taller automaton smiled a bit. “Of course. What's on your mind?”

After a moment or two, Three gave a huffy little sigh. “Pappy really isn't coming back, is he?”

The question caught the Spine off-guard, and his fingers stilled on the keys as he leaned back to look down at the little brass automaton. “...no. No, little brother, he's not. That's why Miss Delilah is here. She'll take care of us now.”

Three immediately ducked his head, drawing his hands back from the piano keys. “Why did he leave?”

“Humans aren't made of metal and clockwork like us,” the Spine soothed gently, putting a long arm around the smaller creation's shoulders. “When they break, they can't be fixed like Father used to fix us. But Miss Delilah will take good care of us-”

“It isn't fair.” The voice this time came from the doorway. Rabbit stood there with his fists clenched at his sides, steam drifting up from his jawless face. “Pappy promised he'd always take care of us, and he went and died. Now we're just a bunch of stupid possessions. I don't care that we were built for her!”

Noticing how Three tensed under his arm, the Spine frowned pointedly at their oldest brother, straightening. “Rabbit, stop that this instant. You're frightening him, and you're behaving entirely irrationally. I'm upset too, but that doesn't change facts.”

Rabbit made an indignant sound. “No! You aren't Pappy and I'M the big brother; you can't tell me what to do! I'm not gonna be okay with this. Facts, facts, facts, always FACTS with you. The FACT is that Pappy left and now SHE'S here and she doesn't know us. She doesn't know how we feel. She doesn't hurt at all like we do! Far as she's concerned, we're probably just pretty music boxes and that's it. Nothing more complicated than that.”

“Rabbit, stop it!” The Spine almost flinched at the sharpness of his own voice, and the way Three ducked in fright under his arm, but his frustration was mounting quickly. “It's useless to harp on about this. Miss Delilah-”

Again, Rabbit interrupted him, shoulders trembling. “I don't want to hear anything else about Miss Delilah!”

The Spine tensed, his fury and irritation with his elder brother's behavior finally hitting a peak. Pulling Three up with him, he got to his feet, photo receptors blazing. “ENOUGH.” Rabbit jumped, staring at the Spine. Never had the middle brother ever raised his voice to either of his siblings, but his anger was clearly written on the clean, smooth lines of his face. “Enough.”

He didn't say another word. Carefully steering Three as he trembled, he stepped out of the room, leaving Rabbit to stand and stare after them. A small part of him wanted to see this as a victory over the ever so stoic the Spine, but he couldn't. And worse, the argument had frightened their little brother. He wished he could frown, but instead he just stomped over to the bench by the piano and plunked down on it, glaring at the large portrait of Peter Walter that hung over the room's fireplace. “...this is all your fault,” he mumbled, wishing his anger would stay in place of the sorrow that threatened to devour him from the inside out. “Why did you have to die?”

* * *

From another doorway looking in on the room, Delilah watched the entire scene unfold. The three automatons, Peter's beloved sons... fighting amongst each other. She knew she had no fault here, but part of her felt that she had failed them somehow. Frustrated, she spun to the side, pressing her back to the wall by the door and covering her face with her hands. How in the world was she ever supposed to manage this?

“Oh, Peter,” she whispered into her hands. “I know how much you loved them, but I must question your decision to leave them in my care. You surely meant nothing but the best... you knew I would care for them like my own, just as you had. But how am I supposed to help heal a hurt they don't believe I realize?”

She stood that way for several moments until she felt a hand on her arm, and, jerking her head up, she was surprised to find Iris standing there, giving her a sorrowful look. “Miss Delilah... I think we should probably talk.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may see some editing...

Delilah was starting to form a distinct distaste to conversations over tea. The last one she had entertained had been a tall man in a brown suit coming to inform her of Peter Walter's death, and her name being listed as his soul beneficiary. So it was with relative unease that she watched Iris pour tea for both of them. She preferred this to speaking to Iris as just the head maid, after all; one on one as ladies in this household suited the both of them much better.

She still couldn't shake that sense of unease as Iris finally seated herself across from her, however, hands folded neatly in her lap and head down. “...Miss Delilah, I am sorry to have to approach you like this-”

“I want you to speak your mind, Iris; you are clearly uncomfortable.” Delilah kept her tone even, reaching forward to take a cup of tea and add a couple of lumps of sugar to it. “You have been since the day I arrived. I apologize; I pay very close attention to these sorts of things.”

The other woman sighed a bit, glancing down before she picked up her own teacup. “I cannot deny that you have been very kind to us, Miss Delilah. Many other people inheriting in such an unusual circumstance would have released the help and hired entirely new people... but you trusted us, because Mr. Walter did.” She sighed a bit, lifting her head. “I was very afraid you would treat them poorly, as some who have seen them perform have. Soulless abominations, the twisted creations of a man playing god, I hear one man called them. To dear little Three, who was only trying to pick up a ball that had rolled near him. We have all worked here a long time, and the automatons are our family. I could not have endured someone who mistreated them.”

Delilah felt her heart clench. How could someone say something like that to any of them? Even Rabbit, as stubborn as he was outspoken, was a lively, charming creature. And to Three, of all the automatons? That was downright cruel. “That doesn't seem to be the entirety of your discomfort with me...”

“No,” Iris sighed. “No, it was... more than that. May I be very direct with you?”

“Please do.”

“Were you... involved with Mr. Walter?”

The instant the light clicked on to the meaning of her words, Delilah very nearly slammed her teacup down in indignation. She kept her composure, however, eyes wide. “Why...! I would never! Peter was a very dear friend of mine, a wonderful colleague, and a brilliant inventor. While it is true that he was making advances of the marital nature prior to his passing, never once were his intentions lacking in chastity! Our relations were never uncouth.”

Iris sat up straight, though she at least had the good graces not to look embarrassed. “Please forgive me, Miss Delilah. I only... some of the other maids suspected that the two of you may have been much more intimate in order for him to leave you the manor AND his sons...”

“I am most certainly not that sort of woman, Iris. One should never abide by idle gossip.” Delilah leaned back, taking great care not to clench her fingers so tightly on the cup that it shattered. She did not need damaged hands if she was to deal with the automatons in any sane manner. “I will not pry as to why my dealings with Peter could possibly upset you so, though if my theory is correct, I can do nothing but apologize for any unintentional pain I may have caused you in being here. If you so wish it, I will gladly release you from your duties with two months' pay and excellent reference toward any position in any high standing household-”

Startled by Delilah's words, Iris nearly dropped her cup in her haste to put it down, clasping her hands in front of her. “Oh, no, Miss Delilah! I didn't mean anything of the sort! Mr. Walter trusted us implicitly with the care of his clockwork men... and I daren't leave Three alone. He's so like a child himself.” She quickly pressed her hands down into her lap, staring hard at the teapot. “I am sorry. Part of it is jealousy; Mr. Walter clearly loved you a great deal.” She moved to stand, leaving her tea mostly untouched. “I have made a terrible error in judgment and I pray you forgive me for that. Good day, Miss Delilah.”

The head maid only gave her a nod to end her statement, and had swept out of the room faster than Delilah had time to stop her. She frowned, her brow knitting together as she sighed, glancing up as one of the butlers poked his head in curiously. It was the younger man. “Ah, James... could you please take this tray back to the kitchen? I fear I've lost my taste for tea for the evening.”

As he nodded and slipped in to remove the tray from her presence, Delilah just sighed, pressing her fingertips to the bridge of her nose. “Well done, Delilah. You've certainly made a mess of it.”

* * *

The following morning was a bright and sunny one, so the new head of house decided to try to soothe her frustrations by taking supper on one of the large back balconies. The Spine and Three had settled nearby, with the younger playing with a small toy bird as his elder brother stood in silent ease near the doorway. James, having proved himself continually helpful since the rather disastrous conversation with Iris the night before, stood opposite the tall automaton, silent and patient.

For now, it seemed the day was moving along just fine.

She was taking a sip of tea when James turned, accepting a whispered message from one of the maids. He looked startled for only a brief moment before turning back to the lady of the house. “Miss Delilah, you have a gentleman caller.”

“A gentleman caller?” She lifted her head, expression clearly puzzled. “Who on earth... anyone from the Cavalcadium would have sent news ahead to inform me of their arrival. Do you have a name?”

“Mister Thaddeus Becile, Miss Delilah.”

That was a start. She hadn't heard from Thaddeus since he and Peter's last argument, and after Peter's death... She drew a deep breath in through her nose, slowly blowing out before she glanced back at the young butler. “Please see Thaddeus to the front sitting room... the one nearest the foyer. Let me know in half an hour sharp what his actions are at that point. I shall remain here with the Spine and Three.”

Nodding, the man slipped out, leaving Delilah alone with her tea and the two automatons. The smaller of the pair was the first to creep up to her, settling to sit on the floor at her side. “Is everything all right?”

“Just a ghost from my past,” she soothed gently, pressing her hand down over some of the springy wires that stuck from about the small automaton's face. “Should I need to go and speak with him, I would like you to go to your room and paint a while.”

He nodded as the Spine made an uneasy noise, but she did her best to smile and soothe them, encouraging little Three to show her how his little toy bird worked until, a half hour later on the nose, James returned to the balcony. “Mister Becile is stating he will wait for you to come down.”

Delilah gave a little bit of a sigh, patting Three's shoulder to get him to stand. “Then I shall join him in the sitting room. If you could prepare tea, James, and have someone waiting at the door. The Spine... please see Three darling to his room.”

As the tall robot nodded his ascent, Delilah slipped to her feet, heading back through the large double doors to head down to where her old acquaintance waited.

* * *

The man looked much the same as when she had last seen him, though perhaps that was not too much of a surprise. It had, after all, been only two months. His skin was tanned from his time in Africa, and he rose politely when she stepped into the room, taking her hands in his when they were offered. “Delilah, it's so very good to see you. I apologize it has taken so long to make this visit, but I was in Africa when news of Peter's passing came to me. It is a terrible tragedy.”

“Your arrival is unexpected, Thaddeus; I was certain you would simply send a telegram once you had heard.” She kept her tone polite and genial, though her stomach was rolling. Thaddeus was not an impolite gentleman, but she had no interest in speaking with him prior to having a chance to collect her thoughts. “How was the trip from Africa?”

He huffed a bit, releasing her hands, allowing her to sit before he followed suit. “Dreadful as always. If that damned Luftschiffbau Zeppelin company would get its business in order, traversing the oceans would be far less inhospitable.” Releasing a sigh, Thaddeus shook his head, finally giving Delilah the politest smile he could manage on his short, wide face. “But enough about me, my dear; how are you? For Peter to die and you to inherit all within a few weeks time... it must've been extraordinarily stressful for you.”

She waved the thought away with one hand as James slipped in with a tray of tea. She could have sworn she saw a glimpse of glowing blue eyes past the door behind him, but she disregarded it for the time being, focusing instead on the conversation at hand. “As I understand, Count Ferdinand Graft von Zeppelin is working very hard on getting those dirigibles airborne. And... I am handling it better than I thought I would have, really. Peter would not have wanted me to dwell, and I see no point in grieving longer than necessary. After all, we were not married... and the thought of having to linger on a period of mourning is quite frankly an insult to his memory.”

“I can very clearly understand your stance on that matter.” Thaddeus crossed his hands over his chest, glancing at her over the rim of his glasses. “Are you settling in all right?”

Delilah just shrugged, gazing toward the door as James moved to pour them both tea. “As well as I could, I suppose. Peter left a great many things unfinished, and this house is... something of a mind of its own. It'll take me months to truly understand the workings of it.”

Just as she was finishing her words, reaching for a cup, the door James had exited from slipped open. There was Three, peeking in curiously, with the Spine trying very hard to keep him from entering. His attempt was a failure, and both automatons wound up sprawled on the floor with the Spine pinning Three, who blinked up at Delilah before giving her a sheepish smile. The Spine just sighed, steam venting along his back. “Miss Delilah, I'm so sorry; I know you wanted him in his room, but the little rascal just-”

“What the devil are these things?” His words were cut off when Thaddeus spoke, and both the clockwork creations turned their heads toward him. “Is this that great project Peter was so on about? Building these oversized clockwork toys?”

Clockwork toys. The words struck a chord in Delilah and she immediately sat straighter. “Thaddeus, they are most certainly not toys! These are Peter's creations, yes, but they're really quite intelligent.” Smiling toward the anxious boys, she motioned with one hand for them to come closer. “It's all right, dears. Let Thaddeus have a look at you.”

As the two automatons stood, the Spine gave the man on the couch a very wary look, and Thaddeus just sat back a bit. “...clockwork men with punchcard brains. Very clever   
of Peter. How do they work?”

“Even I'm not sure of that- oh, darling, be careful!”

Her words came a second too late and poor Three, never the most graceful of his brothers, tangled his own legs and ended up falling, upending the tray of tea onto the floor. The hot liquid gratefully missed landing on anyone standing there, but Thaddeus, startled, shot to his feet. “Little pest-”

“Thaddeus!” Delilah swept to her feet, immediately rushing over to check the little creation for any damage. “He is not a pest!”

Stumbling back over his own words, Thaddeus straightened a bit. “I meant no ill-”

“I believe you should depart for the day. I apologize, but I must see to Peter's sons. James will show you the way out, and I shall call upon you once I have had more time to prepare for a proper visit.”

Though the man went to speak, he hesitated, watching as the Spine hedged around him with a nervous glance. When he abruptly turned, the tall silver automaton actually jumped a bit. “Of course, Delilah. Do take care.”

He didn't wait for the butler to escort him, sweeping back the hallway in the way he had came as Delilah knelt to care for the frightened machine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a stranger appears, and things hit the fan...

To be fair, Delilah was starting to believe that it was easier to deal with human children than childlike automatons. Not that she didn't dearly love Peter's fabulous inventions, but sometimes they were very difficult to control. Of course, after Thaddeus's first visit, at least two of them had seemed considerably very ill at ease. Not uncommon, she supposed, considering he had been in direct competition with their “father” for her attentions, and without Peter there, they must've assumed she would immediately turn to his advances.

Rabbit remained unreachable, though really, she wasn't sure if she was very surprised. He was never a quiet creature according to how Peter often spoke of him, though she supposed she couldn't blame him for his current unease. If one wanted to be technical, he had just lost his father. For now, she just did her best to soothe any fears of the younger automatons, sitting and listening quietly whenever they had music to play or something to show her.

It was when she was taking a constitutional in the garden almost a month later that she saw him. A ragged man in his twenties carrying some sort of case clutched closely to his chest. He looked gaunt but determined, unease and nervousness written all over his features. She blinked a couple of times, then looked to The Spine where he was walking with her. The tall silver automaton shrugged his shoulders, and she nodded, starting down the path at a brisk trot with the mechanical man following along behind.

“Excuse me!” the man called as soon as he saw her, immediately ducking his head out of respect. “Oh, God have mercy... miss, are you the lady of the house? Is Mr. Walter in?”

His voice was thick with an Irish brogue, and it took Delilah a moment to catch all he said with how quickly he spoke. After glancing back at The Spine, she shook her head, looking back at the man. “Mr. Walter has sadly passed away. I am the owner of this house now... once upon a time, I was a professional associate of his. Is there something I may be able to help you with?”

The man's distress at learning Peter Walter had passed away was visible. The hope that seemed to have been the final thing driving him forward vanished from his eyes and he sunk to his knees with a groan. “Then I came all this way for nothing?”

Worried, Delilah sank down so she could get a better look at him. Her original estimate was correct... he couldn't have been older than his mid twenties, with dark hair and startling blue eyes. The accent was indeed distinctly Irish, though what part of Ireland he must've been from she could not say. “Perhaps I can help; I am a scientist myself. Do you have a name?”

“Huh? Oh, I... begging your pardon, miss, I'm being so rude. I'm Sean. Sean Reed.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Reed.”

He laughed a bit, shaking his head as a half smile crossed his face. “No mister necessary. Sean is fine.” He tried to gather himself a bit, looking up before he jumped with a start, as though only just noticing the incredibly tall automaton looming over their heads. “Oh...!”

Having almost forgotten the presence of her charge, Delilah jumped as well before lifting her hands in a placating motion. “Oh! Oh, no, please don't be alarmed! He's perfectly harmless. Sean, this is The Spine... one of the steam men Peter invented.”

“I'd only heard rumors...” Sean murmured softly, looking over the robot curiously. “...but he did it. He actually did it. I'll be damned. Pardon my language, Miss Moreau.”

She smiled a little bit, allowing The Spine to help her to her feet before indicating he should help Sean to his. “I take no offense. What brings you all the way to San Diego?”

For a moment, Sean was quiet, contemplating his options as he readjusted how he held the case. “I found something, and I dug up as much as I could. Some ruffians from my town got suspicious and came after me, and I'd heard about Mister Walter and his fantastic blue matter by means of word of mouth. I figured if anyone could help me, he could.”

Delilah nodded quietly. “And how long ago did you make your discovery?”

“A year ago, ma'am. As I recall, these fellows were brand new at the time. I'm just a simple mechanic, Miss Moreau... I've no real training on things that aren't... well, trains.”

Well now she was curious. What could this man have found that was so very potent and required Peter's knowledge of blue matter? She didn't have his skill with that sort of thing, but she supposed she could try. “Well... I do have all of his notes. I may not be Peter, but I can certainly do my best to help.”

* * *

Surprisingly, young Sean Reed was much better at things other than being a mechanic than he initially stated. The stuff in the case was an unknown to both of them, glowing bright violet and smelling faintly of grapefruit. He dove right into helping her with isolate it, following her around in the labs until she'd finally just laughed and appointed him her official assistant.

Three took to him rather quickly, often popping in down in the lab, excitedly babbling on about something or another, and he seemed to adore Sean well enough, giddily prattling on about how they had the same color eyes. Not entirely untrue, Delilah noted with a chuckle. Sean even started to make it a point to take the excitable little automaton on long walks around the manor, giving her blessed time to work that her situation sometimes disallowed.

By this point, the only thing they had uncovered had been that this new Purple Matter could be used as some kind of power source, though it lacked the distinct potency of blue matter. As the days wore on, she started spending less time with the automatons and more in the lab, working through figuring out what the potential was in this strange new substance. With Sean occasionally helping and occasionally taking on the responsibilities of managing Three, she found she had much more time to focus on her work and the care of the three very outspoken and curious automatons. She even found blueprints for a fourth robot, one she found quite fascinating, and like any good scientist, she started putting together what she would need to put building him into operation.

Still, it was sometimes so depressing, just thinking about how much work she still had left to do, and how much distance she still had to cross with the three automatons. The Spine had, of course, pretty well taken to her, and clearly was accepting of her role in their lives. Three may have been difficult to read and, at times, a bit problematic, but that didn't change how much he appreciated having someone there who just cared for them and wanted them to be safe and happy.

It was while she was at work on the new clockwork child, whose blueprint read "Hatchworth" clearly across the top, that the inevitable finally happened. So engrossed had she been in the work before her, she had not heard the eldest creation's footfalls, despite how uncertain and clunky they were.

"Is that... a new robot?" he asked, quiet and unsure, in a tone that immediately drew Delilah's attention and caused her to spin and look at him. "Oh! Oh, Rabbit... I am sorry; you startled me. Yes, I found this blueprint left by Peter for a little brother for you and the others. A few days later, I located the parts he had amassed for the project, so I decided rather than let him sit and gather dust, I would try my hand at putting him together.

Rabbit gave her a long look, though without a jaw or lids for those great glowing photoreceptors, it was very difficult to tell what he was thinking. Then, all at once, he huffed steam from every vent on his frame, giving his head a hard shake. "You're replacing us!"

Delilah blinked rapidly for several moments, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks at how hurt and lost his words sounded. "Rabbit, darling, I would never replace the three of you. Peter loved the three of you so dearly, and it would be entirely improper of me to destroy what he worked so hard to create and maintain. Please don't think-"

But he interrupted her, stomping one foot hard against the floor beneath him. "Well what else c-c-c-c-could this be?!" He wasn't looking at her, glaring accusingly at the bare framework on the table. "Pappy left us to you and you don't care about us no more than anyone else does! We're just stupid contraptions! Fancy music boxes!"

Equally hurt by his words as he must have felt to drive him to say them, Delilah straightened sharply. "Rabbit Walter, you stop that this instant. I have never thought anything of the sort concerning the three of you! I love you all just as dearly as Peter did when he built you, and I've nothing but love for you even now! I am simply trying to make sure your creator's work does not lie around useless for all time!"

Rabbit just stared, though Delilah had a distinct feeling he was attempting to glare at her. Then he huffed again, his posture looking somewhere between furious and anguished. "That's not true! Besides, you can't tell me what to do! You're not my creator! YOU'RE NOT PAPPY!"

He was already bolting out of the room before she had a chance to move forward and stop him, though she could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Whether or not he had meant them, she knew how he felt. He was right, after all: she was most certainly not Peter Walter, and she never would be. Gloves forgotten, she pressed her oily hands over her face, leaving smudges and handprints across her pale skin, choking back an unwanted sob.

She could already hear someone coming down the stairs, calling her name, and from the voice she assumed it was Sean. She didn't need him seeing her like this, so she straightened and lowered her hands, doing her best to be a picture of calm and composure, despite the pain raging beneath the surface.

"Miss Moreau?!" the young man called, all but tripping over himself as he bolted into the downstairs laboratory. "Miss Moreau, I heard yelling! Is everything all right?"

Her nod was rehearsed and too sharp, a fact she was all too keenly aware of, but she chose to ignore it - and his scrutinizing gaze - for the time being. "Everything is quite all right, Sean, but thank you for your concern. Things simply get a bit heated on occasion in the labs."

He frowned, his nose wrinkling up, bright blue eyes clouded with concern. "Well... if you say so, Miss Moreau, but I know I heard Rabbit yelling. I think he went outside, toward the duck pond."

"He does that quite frequency," was Delilah's short answer. "He enjoys feeding the ducks near his creator's grave. I believe it gives him a sort of sense of calm in the storm he undoubtedly feels he is lost in, what with Peter's unfortunate passing and having to learn to live with entirely new and unfamiliar faces in what has been his home for easily more than a year."

Sean was clearly not convinced. He looked into her eyes, focused on her, his lips pulled down into a startlingly severe frown that didn't suit his face. Finally, though, he sighed, unwilling to risk inpropriety by pushing the matter further. "I won't harp or push, ma'am. It's your choice what you want to share about the situation. Let me know if you need any sort of help."

She nodded faintly, standing perfectly still and straight until he'd disappeared up the steps. Only then did she sink down into her chair, looking up at Hatchworth's still and mostly unfinished frame, reaching up to pat one long fingered hand with no small amount of affection. "Oh, Hatchworth. What sort of world am I bringing you into? I only hope your brothers can find it in their cores to love you as dearly as I have come to love them. That Rabbit can see fit to accept his family the way it is. Perhaps it isn't perfect, but... a woman can hope."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get dicey...

The days seemed to pass much more slowly as they dragged on through the hot summer months. Stuck joints and complaints of overheating from the younger two Walter automatons became more commonplace, though the eldest still kept to himself, either unwilling or unwanting to voice any of his own grievances. If he felt particularly rough, he would let Sean take a look at him, but going to Delilah? No, that would have simply been wrong to him.

Delilah was, honestly, a bit tired of his behavior, but what could she do? She couldn't punish him for hurting so badly from his creator's death, and the last thing she wanted was to make him feel as though he was being forced to do anything. So she kept silent, helping The Spine and Three where she could, and praying Rabbit would come around.

“Y'know, Delilah,” Sean began late one morning as they sat on the balcony overlooking the pond, watching Rabbit where he sat feeding the ducks with his brothers near him, “he'll come 'round eventually.”

She sighed, pursing her lips as she reached for her teacup. “It feels as though he doesn't wish to. I cannot force him to be comfortable with my presence, Sean; it simply cannot be done. They're so like children... and while I am aware Three is the youngest, sometimes Rabbit is the most difficult.”

The man made a thoughtful sound, lifting his coffee with brows arched. “Then you have to speak with him like y'would a child. Children know when somethin's wrong, and if you're tense, well. Maybe that's why he's so anxious.”

“Yes, but children also generally warm up once they determine there is no threat to them. I find it so odd that it's so easy to get Three and The Spine to cooperate, and yet Rabbit continues to resist any and all attempts I have made at settling him.” Delilah sighed, leaning back in her seat. “He trusts you, Sean.”

Sean shrugged a bit, giving a faint smile as he tipped his head forward toward her. “I'm a mechanic and sort of a neutral third party. He doesn't see me as a threat, or as a boon. Just someone who can fix his hurts and not get involved too emotionally.”

Delilah's expression soured slowly as he spoke, until she finally sat her teacup aside, gray eyes half closed as she watched it in silence. “And yet I am far too emotionally invested to simply back away. I do not wish to force him, but he is so... so... difficult!”

The Irishman hesitated. He sat very quiet, watching Delilah as she glared in frustration at her full teacup, and finally, he leaned forward to gently take her hand in his. “Delilah... you're a good woman. You're a good woman, and you're damn brilliant, if you'll forgive my coarse tongue. He'll come around.”

The touch to her hand caused Delilah to jerk her head up rather quickly, startled as she blinked at Sean. “I... well, I suppose you are right. That he will come around, I mean. Rabbit is such a smart boy. I just wish I could do more to assuage his worries.”

“And you will,” Sean reassured, giving her hand a squeeze. “Just wait. Why, I'll bet it'll happen in no time at all!”

* * *

Which was certainly a lovely sentiment, Delilah considered in retrospect, frowning as she sat in front of her vanity and mentally counted off the strokes as she ran a brush through her long, thick hair. Most of her day had been spent down in the laboratory with Hatchworth, though the bronze automaton was nowhere near completion yet. She was starting to wonder about her decision in bringing him online. Had she made the right choice, completing him?

She sat her brush down after the hundredth stroke, looking at her reflection in the mirror. What had she even managed to accomplish here, other than Rabbit's feelings of complete and utter betrayal and the wedge she'd driven in the relationships of three wonderful automatons.

It made her heart ache to think about it. She sighed, small hands twisting her hair up into a bun, eyes focused on the woman looking back from her reflection... a woman who suddenly seemed so very foreign to her. She wondered what Peter had seen in her... just her appearance, as there were many man in the Cavalcadium who insisted she was an extraordinary beauty, or was it her mind as well? It must have been her mind, she reminded herself, for why else would he have built her these beautiful automatons?

These automatons that still did not fully trust her. Huffing her indignation, she slammed her hands down on the vanity. This simply would not do. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would talk to Rabbit and try to get some reason into him. He must understand that his “father” had only wanted the best for them, and that was that!

With this newfound determination, Delilah got to her feet and walked over to crawl into the large bed, curling up on her side under the sheets before reaching over to turn the switch on the wall to dim down the lights. She would embark on this plan in the morning, but for right now, she needed rest!

* * *

The manor made all sorts of weird sounds during the night, of course, but she'd gotten used to many of them, ignoring them as she slept, her hand tucked neatly against her cheek and knees curled up. However tonight, no more than an hour or so after she fell asleep, a sudden thump down the hallway startled her awake.

Delilah lay in silence for several moments, her eyes wide, breathing as slowly as she could so as not to miss another sound. This time, she could make out the definitive thud of footsteps on the soft plush rug that traveled down the hall, and someone jiggling doorknobs. Her own door, she realized, was thankfully locked, though her whole body felt chilly and stiff when her own doorknob wiggled... and the stranger moved on.

How dare someone break into HER house?! Had they no sense of decency?! As quietly as she could manage, she slid out of bed and grabbed her housecoat, wrapping it tightly around herself. She needed to send for help-

Any and all thought of caution flew out of her head when she heard a cry that did not come from a human. The voice was definitely The Spine's, followed by a plaintive, terrified little shout from Three. Grabbing an old gas table lamp from a nearby desk, she quickly unlocked the door and rushed down the hall toward the nearby room where the robots “slept” in nightly stasis.

There were two men there, one of them Sean Reed, who was grappling with a man all in black, pinning him bodily to the ground. Inside, Delilah noted as she glanced past them, The Spine and Three had tucked themselves into a corner, metal limbs rattling as they shook, pinpricks of blue and green staring back at her from the darkness.

She desperately wanted to rush in and hold them, to tell them it would be all right, but there was something serious amiss: Rabbit was not with his brothers.

“Sean, where's Rabbit?!” she demanded, glancing down as the Irishman landed a fierce right hook to the intruder's jaw. “Where is he?!”

“I d'no!” He growled as he sat up a bit, holding on to the man's collar. “He wasn't in here when- Delilah!” The woman was already rushing past and down the stairs, mentally willing the odd labyrinthine house to take her directly to Rabbit. “Delilah, I don't know if this guy was alone-!”

But she had already vanished into the maze of hallways that would lead to where her oldest adopted son was hidden.

* * *

Rabbit had not really noticed any of the goings on upstairs. Unable to fall into stasis curled up with his brothers, he had slipped out as quietly as his awkwardly shaped body allowed him to, sneaking off to Peter Walter I's favorite study. The room was always undisturbed... or at least that's how it should have been. Tonight, inexplicably, the door was opened wide, a gas light lit somewhere inside as someone rummaged around in one of the desks or trunks.

He could hear a man's voice.

It wasn't Sean. By this point, he was very familiar with Sean's voice. The Irishman had a very pleasant tone and could sing very well. Whoever this was, they also seemed very familiar, but he could not put his finger on it.

Sneaking forward, he peeked inside, only to find himself looking directly at...

“James?!”

The butler jerked up straight, spinning to face the automaton in the doorway, but he did not at all look the kindly, friendly butler who had helped so much when Peter Walter I was alive. He was scowling as he grabbed a fire iron from next to the dusty old fireplace, and Rabbit, startled, took a step back.

“Blasted thing. Knew I should've done as the old man said and off-lined the lot of you soon as the lunatic was dead, before that damn judy moved in here!”

Rabbit let out a startled sound, at the terms used to refer both to his beloved creator and the woman he'd been built for. He backed away, shrinking down a little bit, putting his hands up as James advanced. “James, I do-do-don't understand-”

The man snorted as he raised the fire iron. “Of course not. You're an abomination. A toy made by a madman to amuse his whore.” His eyes narrowed. “And it's high time I corrected that mistake!”

Frightened and upset, Rabbit covered his head with his hands, but the blow never came. He heard the sound of shattering glass accompanied by a woman's angry cry, and peeked through his fingers to see what had happened.

Delilah was standing there panting, hair partly fallen out of the bun she'd tied it into, her hands tightly gripping a broken desk lamp... the same one, he assumed, that had been broken over James's head, knocking him unconscious.

“Are you all right, Rabbit dear?!” she blurted, looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “He didn't hurt you, did he?! Oh, darling, I'm so sorry! I never would've suspected-”

Rabbit, frightened and startled, interrupted immediately. “You hit him with a lamp!”

She stared at him for a moment before a shaky smile appeared on her lips. “Well, of course, dear. I didn't have a wrench.”

Delilah stood straight, dropping the lamp to the side before wrapping the housecoat more tightly around herself as Rabbit turned his head to look down at the man on the floor. “...what are we gonna d-d-do about him?”

“Fetch me some rope to tie him with, dear, and I'll send one of the other butlers to call the police. I've no idea what's going on... but hopefully we may be able to find out!”


End file.
